


Mess

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregory has something to ask to Harry—he just doesn't have the words to say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Furrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furrina/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> Gift for Furrina.

The owl comes in the middle of the football game, dropping the letter right in Harry’s lap. Harry waits for a commercial to actually open it, although Ron says they can turn it off. Ron doesn’t get Muggle sports. Harry appreciates him trying, but it’s really a failing cause.

A smile graces Harry’s lips as soon as he sees the messy silver scrawl—he could spot Gregory’s writing from a dozen meters away, even if he didn’t see the owl. The smile leaves with the contents, though. It’s a simple piece of parchment, reading only, _‘Please meet me tonight at Ruschertto’s at seven. We need to talk.’_

“What?” Ron asks rhetorically, reading the letter over his shoulder. “You need to talk?”

When the game comes back on, Harry distractedly mumbles, “Can you pause it?”

Neville reaches over and clicks pause; they both know better than to let Ron use the remote. Harry rereads the short letter, wondering if he’s missed something. Ruschertto’s was were they had their first date, but other than that, nothing sounds promising. “No offense, mate, but that doesn’t sound good,” Ron says rather bluntly. Harry blinks at him—that’s exactly what he thought.

Neville shrugs and says, “Well, he’s not the best with words. It could be something good.”

“You can say that again,” Ron snorts. “But what can they need to talk about that’s good that Harry doesn’t know?” Then Ron adds to Harry, “It’s not his birthday, is it?”

Harry shakes his head. He isn’t good with dates, but he’s pretty sure Gregory’s birthday isn’t for a while. And it’s not Harry’s birthday either. He looks at Neville again for more explanation, but Neville’s tight-lipped, looking awkward. Harry raises an eyebrow. “Do you know anything?”

Neville instantly shakes his head. “I don’t even know Goyle.”

“Pfft,” Ron scoffs, “Bullshit. You’re fucking Malfoy, and they’re practically glued at the hip.”

“Well, I don’t know anything,” Neville repeats more firmly. When Harry and Ron stare at him intensely enough, he mutters, “Er... I can’t say anything.”

Harry asks, “What?” at the exact same moment Ron says, “It must be bad, then.”

Another owl swoops through while Harry speculates, this time a sleep black eagle owl. It sits on Neville’s shoulders while he reads the letter, and then he says uncomfortably, “...Er, apparently I’m not allowed to talk to you, so I have to come home...”

Ron snorts and makes a mock-whipping noise. Neville rolls his eyes and looks apologetically at Harry, picking up his robes and heading for the door.

Harry’s too nervous to stop him.


	2. Chapter 2

Gregory’s nervous as hell. He’s shaking like a first year back at Hogwarts, and Draco pats his arm, drawling coolly, “It’ll be fine. ...Well, not in the long run, if he says yes—you’ll be waking up years later and regretting this... so really, even if he says no, you kinda win.”

Gregory’s too anxious to protest. Of course he wants a yes, more badly than he’s ever wanted anything. When they reach the restaurant, Gregory slows down considerably—Draco grabs his arm and drags him the last few steps.

Then he turns to brush off Gregory’s robes, insisting, “It’ll be fine. I planned this meticulously, and no one could turn down my setups. All you have to do is—”

“What if he dumps me?” Gregory blurts out, feeling sluggish and like a Neanderthal. 

Draco scrunches his nose up, sneering, “What? Don’t be ridiculous—nobody dumps anybody when they say ‘no,’ it just means ‘not now.’”

“But what if I scare him off?” Gregory practically sobs, even though his eyes are dry. He’s tense as a tree. “What if he thinks it’s too soon, or that I didn’t do it right, or he wants to say no and realizes he’s always going to?”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Draco says simply, “and you deserved better anyway.” Gregory sighs heavily.

Draco gives him a brisk hug. Gregory grabs Draco tighter than he means to, squeezing and murmuring, “Thank you.” He mostly means for planning everything and hand-holding his nervous-as-hell self.

Draco nods, replying prissily, “You’re welcome.” Then he pulls off and abruptly walks away, leaving Gregory in front of the wide restaurant doors. He’s about to go in when he catches Harry’s eye on the other side of the street, almost arm in arm with Weasley. Gregory blushes and looks after Draco—is it alright they hugged? Or maybe he’s being paranoid. Harry’s walking with Weasley anyway. And Harry knows that he and Draco are just friends.

He feels like an idiot and he doesn’t know what to do. Weasley Disapparates mid-step, about half a block away. Harry’s left looking oddly dejected and twitchy, which doesn’t at all make Gregory feel any better. He wants to do this when Harry’s in a good mood, but it’s too late now.

It’s too warm outside for robes, and Harry’s just in his usual jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, but he looks as gorgeous as always. The thin material stretches across his pecs; even if he’s smaller than Gregory, Harry’s still well built. The jeans are too tight for him, hugging everything and leaving nothing to the imagination. It looks like he tried to tame his hair, but it’s as much a sexy mess as it always is. When he gets close enough, he mumbles, “Hey.”

Gregory says, “Hey,” back, still raking his eyes over Harry’s form. He leans in for a peck to Harry’s cheek—suddenly he’s forgotten how they do everything. It’s been two years and he’s an idiot. When he looks back at Harry, it feels like it’s the first time. Gregory loops an arm around his back, ushering him inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry’s a wreck. He’s cagey as hell. He spent the entire walk over having Ron pep-talk him for a break up, even though he has absolutely no idea what he did wrong. They were fine this morning when Gregory went off to work—Harry even made him pancakes, since it was his own day off, and breakfast was full of the usual smiles and laughter. They had a quickie when they first woke up, and it was as amazing as it always is.

Harry knows, deep down, that Gregory would never leave him for Malfoy. Malfoy’s with Neville, anyway, and despite Neville’s odd behaviour this afternoon, Harry knows they’re in love. Somehow. And he knows Gregory only sees Malfoy as a friend anyway. But it’s still disconcerting to see them hug when Harry’s this uncertain. When Harry looks at Gregory, he sees their whole life together—every fumbling moment and every joyous smile, every broom ride and every backyard football match. He thinks of every kiss they’ve ever shared, every hug he’s ever gotten. He’s been with Gregory for so long that he doesn’t know how he’d cope on his own. Gregory’s a sturdy, grounding force; he’s Harry’s rock. After all the flimsy fans clawing for Harry’s attention one minute and condemning him the next, he _needs_ a simple, stable rock. When Gregory puts his hand atop Harry’s, right after Harry’s forced the last nervous bite into his mouth, his head whips up instantly.

Neither said a word throughout dinner. They had salad, and Harry pushed meatballs around his plate. Now he’s out of pasta. Gregory’s lasagna is gone—Gregory can always eat, no matter what the situation. He still looks at Harry uneasily, fingers thick and warm. “I...” he finally mumbles, steeping Harry’s anxiety. “...I have something important I want to ask you.”

In that moment, Harry doesn’t care that their waiter’s headed for them with a plate of dessert. He doesn’t care that he’s in a crowded restaurant, and he’s a celebrity and he shouldn’t make a scene. He flips Gregory’s hand around and clutches it tight in both of his, hissing furiously, “I don’t want to break up!”

Gregory blinks dazedly. His mouth falls open soundlessly. Their waiter puts their plate down with a slight clinking sound—Harry distractedly takes his own truffle without looking away from Gregory.

“Er,” Gregory mumbles. He uses his other hand to scratch his head. “Okay.” Harry blushes hotly.

He picks up his fork and looks down at his chocolate truffle, mostly so he won’t have to look at Gregory’s handsome face anymore. He’s embarrassed and still nervous and thoroughly confused and he just wants Gregory to get _on with it._

His fork slips out of his hands, toppling loudly to the table. He stares down at his truffle, eyes wide as saucers. 

Nestled atop the drizzled fudge of his truffle lies a golden ring, topped with a large, glistening ruby. For a few seconds, all he can do is stare at it. Time seems to freeze. Then he notices that Gregory is getting up and walking around the table, moving to kneel beside him. Harry’s cheeks are redder than the ruby. He’s vaguely aware that many eyes in the restaurant are falling to them. Gregory reaches for one of Harry’s hands—Harry gulps and lets him take it.

Gregory opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Then he grumbles, “I’m really sorry—I fucked this up. I was supposed to say romantic shit all dinner, and instead I forgot everything, and I was supposed to send you flowers from work but I forgot, and I forgot to say happy anniversary this morning even though you made me those awesome pancakes...” He trails off while Harry’s cheeks absolutely burn. He completely forgot their anniversary. Gregory takes a deep breath and continues, “...Harry. I really love you. Like, really, _really_. The last two years have been the best time of my life, and you have no idea how much I just want to spend the rest of it with you. Will you... will... uh...” He coughs, looking awkward and rushes, “Will you marry me?”

Harry lunges down into him, practically shouting, _“Yes.”_


End file.
